


Le Loupgarou

by paladinquen (postmodern_robot)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Canada, M/M, Werewolf AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 06:34:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13265739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postmodern_robot/pseuds/paladinquen
Summary: After losing his family to the Beaver Wars, Matthieu chooses to spend most of his life living far from the crowded and corrupted towns of men, unless he absolutely needs to trade. When he accepts a contract to kill a monstrous creature that has escaped from a Dutch ship, he has no idea that his quiet life is going to change.





	1. Sun/Moon

_Eastern Canada - early 1700s_

It came from Europe. It certainly was not a monster that was native to his home, Matthieu could tell by how clumsily it moved through the forest. ‘Moved’, more like stumbling and crashing, as bad as those new traders fresh off the boat who got themselves killed within the first day - those who had no business being here. Sometimes Matthieu wondered about his unknown father, who had given him his too-pale skin, hair and eyes, physical attributes that made these newcomers seek him out for business more readily than they did his kin. Still, their goods were of good quality, and hunting a creature this clumsy would be easy.

So Matthieu hunted - not just for the tools, tobacco, fur, and other products worth a fortune in trade, but also because he didn’t want some foreign menace tearing his home apart - foreign diseases, an animal that could easily feast on too many native ones to throw everything off balance. He’d already seen what such things could do, he’d kill any new thing before it could do that.

He was lucky it was summer, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to track it for this long. But now he’s willing to speed up. It’s time to end this. He had tracked it for most the night under the light of the full moon, and whatever it was, it wasn’t trying to hide, or couldn’t. Broken branches, scattered leaves, blood and the smell of something foreign in the wind assaulted Matthieu’s senses. He works alone, even though he grew up doing this in a group of young boys, then men, just like him. But now his people are gone, and Matthieu has no one to work with. The Beaver Wars have all but decimated the only people he had ever known. The only reason he’s alive, is because he favors his father’s looks. His mother’s brother had brought him to a French settlement when they heard the enemy was coming, and the Jesuit brothers adopted him without question.

He exists between two worlds and belongs to none, like the land he was born in, in conflict - fought over between nations that have no business being here but they are transforming it nonetheless. His ability to hide and blend in between all these peoples, to speak their languages - to disappear into the forest, or town or port when he needs to - keep him alive. It’s a lonely life, but it’s the only one that he now knows. In his early and more naive years, Matthieu refused to work for any of the Europeans unless they were French, he also would not look at any Haudenosaunee (the Iroquois) if he could help it - those who killed his mother and took his cousins from him. As he grew older, his attitude and practicality had to change. The way he saw things, the English were going to win and if he were to survive, he would have to learn to at least live with them. He was making progress with that but it was still difficult to accept the Dutch - the ones who sold his people’s enemies their weapons without reserve, who had sealed the fate of his family. Until yesterday at least.

They had sought him out - Matthieu had built a reputation for himself as a guide, tracker and hunter. He accepted few jobs but it appeared that despite their parsimonious reputation, these Dutchmen were willing to pay him a lot of money.

Maybe he should have hired more to join, but there was something about this deal that made him suspicious - too good to turn down, which would mean a knife in the back as soon as the job was done. But also odd. There was something those Dutch sailors were refusing to tell him, it was in their stiff manner when they presented to him the silver bullets to kill the thing with.

The tracks seemed to confirm part their story at least, or what Matthieu could understand from their clumsy command of his language - large beast, brought for labor, escaped, kill on sight. The few things that didn’t make sense were the last two descriptors of the ‘beast’ - dangerous, intelligent. For the first few hours, Matthieu had been cautious, convinced that the beast was leading him into a trap, with how obvious the trail was. The other curious thing was, there seemed to be three tracks - a man’s, a wolf’s and the beast the sailors spoke of. It’s possible another hunter and his dog was also trailing this beast, which was the other reason Matthieu was cautious - some would kill before sharing possible spoils - but now he is not so sure.

It is only now that the third possibility occurs to him and he freezes in fear, could it be? No, but…? Their hesitance to talk, the special bullets. Matthieu is young, confident, stupid and has lived apart from his people for too long if he was only putting this together now. But if it’s European how can it be a Wendigo?! And it’s summer! Matthieu banishes his banal thoughts and is able to move again. There was no wisdom that said Wendigos were native only to his land, that was like saying that those baser instincts such as greed, hunger and desperation were unique to his people - why would such a creature be restricted to his own home? But Matthieu had stopped believing in Wendigo during his time with the Jesuits, not because they had convinced him entirely about the truth of God, but because if Wendigo were real, this whole land would be covered with them. The wars had proven that all the nations were selfish and greedy enough to be filled with nothing but Wendigo. But now Matthieu’s mind returns to his childhood and considers. Yes, Wendigo were said to hibernate in summer but they could be awoken.

Had those fools attempted to trap and use one for profit? For labour? Knowing how greedy these traders could be, how dismissive of things they could not see in front of their own eyes and calculate the worth of, it wouldn’t surprise him. And wouldn’t a European Wendigo be just as hopeless navigating his forests as a fresh European man would be?

Whatever it is, it is too late to leave and come back with a full party to lay traps, though it is likely smarter to do so. Matthieu’s curiosity is getting the best of him, as it always does. He carefully, quietly, takes his musket and moves on. The tracks show that the creature has hunted, and is slowing. The trail of blood tells Matthieu it is eating but there’s no evidence of an animal’s neat eating habits here, it is more akin to a human that has starved for days. The scent is getting stronger now, and it’s growing lighter around him, soon the sun will rise. The beast is slowing almost to a stop, so he guesses it has found a place to hide during the day, after the mess it has made overnight. Matthieu quietly climbs a tall rock to get a better shot. He will lose all advantage of surprise if he misses.

What he sees doesn’t really resemble any Wendigo he’s heard about, but the stories range. This beast is covered in heavy grey fur with a hint of a reddish hue. It looks more like a giant wolf than a man, save for its very long hind legs and the clear sign of five fingers and toes rather than paws, albeit with claws. It feeds on a wild boar, which says something about the strength this creature must have despite how clumsy it is in the forest.

Matthieu takes aim, and he’s about to shoot when the first ray of sunlight hits the creature and it freezes, turning abruptly, which makes Matthieu lose his shot. The rest, well, it makes him freeze.

Though the face has a long snout, it’s eyes are nothing like any wolf’s eyes that Matthieu has ever seen. They’re confused and afraid, and they’re green - green like a grassy field. And human.

What Matthieu sees next freezes him in his spot. The creature seems to fight itself, reaching towards the sunlight and snapping back, snarling at it, before inevitably crawling into it, submissive and defeated. Then the change happens and the thing howls in agony - fur falls off in matted clumps to reveal pale flesh, the claws turn brittle and fall off, bones painfully crack into a different shape and the snout shortens back to a man’s face. The howl turns into a human scream and doesn’t end. The man screams himself hoarse as he curls up in pain, his body outside of his control. The sound and sight makes Matthieu’s heart clench in his chest, tears of sympathy sting his eyes. It’s difficult to witness anything endure this kind of pain but he knows he can’t do anything to help, at least not yet.

Matthieu has no idea how much time has passed from the beginning of the transformation to when it seems to have ended, but the man now lies on his back, staring into the sky at nothing. He breathes heavily and tears run down his blood-streaked face. His eyes are the same.

Those eyes flicker to him and widen slightly, before closing. When he opens his eyes, they’re dull. Matthieu only now realizes that he’s breathing just as hard, he can barely process everything that he has just seen. But if nothing else, he knows this isn’t a Wendigo - Wendigo do not change back.

The man speaks, but Mattieu narrows his eyes, he can’t understand Dutch. He jumps down from his rock and walks closer. It’s probably stupid, there’s no guarantee that this man is harmless just because he’s now naked and appears weak but…Matthieu also knows he’s not going to kill him right at this moment, unless he obviously threatens him.

The man freezes for a time but doesn’t close his eyes. He looks at Matthieu in confusion then and tries again. “French?”

Matthieu nods. “Yes, if I must.”

He nods. “I just said, if you’re going to help me, help me. If not, then to get on with it and kill me. I’m too damn tired to fight.”

Matthieu narrows his eyes, still pointing his musket at the man. He knows that the likelihood of him killing the man are rapidly dropping but he still wants answers. “What are you?”

The eyes close with pain. “Loupgarou.” The man sighs as if that’s the answer. Matthieu doesn’t know that word, though he thinks he knows half of it. Loup means ‘wolf’, but garou…? The man speaks. “They said if I laboured for them I could earn a cure. The others…when I met the others I knew it was a lie.”

Others? “There are more like you? How are you-”

“A wolf bites us, or a dog, I don’t fucking know anymore. Sometimes you just get sick and die, sometimes nothing happens, sometimes you turn into a loupgarou - every full moon, you have to change. You have to leave everyone you know, or you may hurt them, so if you’re going to help me, point me to water and let me go, or shoot me and be done with it!”

Matthieu makes a split decision that he hopes he won’t regret. He has no idea why he’s doing it, except that the alternatives feel wrong. While the man is still too exhausted to move, after this latest outburst, Matthieu sets down his travel bag and pulls out spare clothes and dampens a cloth with some water.

“What are you doing?!”

“Dressing you. After this, I will give you water, and you will help me cut up that boar you managed to kill. If it isn’t sick, we’ll cook and eat some and then, you are going to help me bring it back to my home, we’ll dry and preserve it, and I won’t have to hunt for weeks. On the way you can help me think of something to tell the sailors who hired me to kill you, so that they will leave you alone.”  

The man looks incredulous. “Wh…No! You can’t keep me around! Didn’t you hear me? I’m a threat, I’m dangerous!”

“Once every full moon.” Matthieu scoffs. “Which has just passed. Which means we have a month to figure out what to do with you. Now stop whining and make yourself useful. Do you have a name Mr Loupgarou? Or is that what I’m expected to call you?”

The man makes a face. Impossibly terrifying but Matthieu knows he’s just trying to cover his own terror, and perhaps surprise. Matthieu holds his ground and stares right back at the man. Finally the other relents. “This is supposed to be a new world. Why don’t you give me a name?”

Matthieu chuckles without much humor. He wonders if the man can understand what a new name truly means. Matthieu is lucky to still have his, a French name for the French father he never knew, though he had often wished he had a more common name among his nation when he was younger. But his cousins who had those Wendat names had been taken by the Haudenosaunee. If they survived, according to the customs of war, they had by now been given the names of those who had died before them. Matthieu, one of the few survivors of his nation, got to keep his name, only because it had never belonged to that nation to begin with. The world he was born in was dying so fast, so maybe the man had a point about new names and new beginnings. “You may regret leaving that choice up to me. Come on.”

Matthieu stops and looks back after he hears no footsteps behind him. He freezes at the expression the man has on his face. Matthieu doesn’t know what to call it - amazement? Amazement and disbelief with something else he’s never seen before. He feels a rush of heat to his face. It’s not fear, though the rush of adrenaline is familiar. Matthieu figures it’s just exhaustion from the night and it’s time to return home. Thankfully the man realizes that Matthieu is not leaving without him and moves. They return in relative silence.


	2. Warmth/Cold

_4 months later_

He didn’t know why he hadn’t asked Mr Loupgarou to leave (Matthieu had not decided on the man’s new name yet, but he responded to this one even if he had the funniest look on his face whenever he heard it).

Maybe because Matthieu was lonely. He had been born into a large community and had been given to a small and foreign group right before his family had been erased in years of senseless war. When he reached manhood and realized that he was unwilling to join the brothers, Matthieu left and had since lived on his own, a far cry from where he had started. Maybe he had also been bored. Now he had the additional challenge of having to stalk and find Mr Loupgarou every full and tend to him. There was purpose in it beyond simply trading for things and making some money. Maybe because of that, Matthieu could not bring himself to ask the man to leave. Neither did it seem, was the man in a hurry to. Matthieu had no doubt that once Mr Loupgarou adjusted to his condition and got his bearings, that he would leave. Mr Loupgarou had told him that he had been born in a busy and bustling port city and grew up in the brothel where his mother had worked. Such an environment was a completely different world from this solitary home that Matthieu had built himself in this hidden portion of the forest. Sometimes, when Matthieu found work as a guide, he would take steps to hide the place before he led parties deep into the forest, down the long riverways and further on, before finding his way back. It was amazing that this strategy seemed to work each time. Matthieu didn’t know why he wanted one home to return to, rather than to wander and make his way where he saw fit, but he did.

Sometimes he wondered if he could even ask the man to leave - wouldn’t it be dangerous for everyone else? So far, the man-wolf form had not harmed Matthieu but Mr Loupgarou insisted that he had very little control over himself while changed. Come each full moon, he was mostly intent on running away, as far as possible from Matthieu as he could get. He was effective at it for the most part, Matthieu was just a normal man, there was no keeping up, but he could easily follow the trail left behind. The urgency was to find Mr Loupgarou in his fully human form as quickly as possible after he changed back - he was always exhausted and vulnerable during this time, sometimes passed out, and there was no telling what or who would prey on him given the chance without Matthieu there to protect him. He had done so already, several times.

It didn’t mean that Mr Loupgarou wasn’t often an annoyance though. He brooded often in a way that brought a dark mood to everything, probably because he was prone to sharp words. In the first few weeks of his stay, he would do nothing without being explicitly being ordered to. Matthieu did not blame him for his moods, he cannot imagine what being cursed by something as simple as an animal bite had to be, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed seeing it. Mr Loupgarou also had to be reminded to bathe frequently or risk being locked out, like a child, but Matthieu knew from experience amongst the Jesuits that Europeans simply did not wash as often as they should. Thankfully Mr Loupgarou was no freeloader and after he became familiar with the work, he would find ways to busy himself before the moods could hit him too hard - chopping more wood, preparing food, cleaning the meat, gathering edible plants - all skills that Matthieu had taught him and seemed to keep the dark brooding at bay for the most part. Mr Loupgarou also seemed to have an affinity for flowers, and had to be taught several times not to pluck the poisonous ones, no matter how beautiful. It seemed however that he was most occupied at night, sitting by a dim light and mapping the surroundings around the cabin. Matthieu was not comfortable with having his home mapped out, this was his secret hideaway, but he was amazed at how accurate the map was and too fascinated to really put a stop to it.

“You could find work as a surveyor.” He had said once.

Mr Loupgarou scoffed. “A surveyor who is at risk of eating the entire party come the full moon.”

Almost every conversation about a potential future ended like that so Matthieu knew not to waste his time arguing the point. “I will need you keep that particular map a secret. I hide here by choice.”

“Of course.” Mr Loupgarou emphatically assured him. I had no intention of sharing this it’s just…something I can do that calms me down and gives me a sense of purpose.”

“Alright then.” Matthieu hoped that he could believe him, and that once Mr Loupgarou left, he wouldn’t sell the map for some kind of profit. Men could have honest intentions in one moment, and change it the next, this he knew.

* * *

The weather was cold now, and rabbit stew would do wonders for the body. Matthieu brought home several rabbits from his hunt, feeling quite proud of himself until he saw the look on the other man’s face. Mr Loupgarou looked like he wanted to cry. It was so incongruous and unexpected, since the man otherwise tried his hardest not to show much emotion.

Matthieu decided to ignore that look for now. He wanted his rabbit stew.

Mr Loupgarou couldn’t bring himself to eat either, preferring to chew on the preserved foods, not that it was a good idea to survive off that even for just one meal in this weather. Matthieu had more for himself.

In the coming days it was easier to see that after the meat had been sliced, dried and preserved, Mr Loupgarou could attempt to stomach it, but the fresh rabbit stew made the man sick. Matthieu wasn’t having any of it - if he didn’t eat, he would be of no use.

“So, you love rabbits. I don’t know what else to tell you, except that when it snows like this, it’s easier to trap them than waste energy trying to hunt something else down when prey is more elusive or dangerous, and movement is difficult.”

“I know.” He huffed as he swung the axe down on a thick log of wood. “I try.”

Matthieu nods. “May I know why?”

After a furious swing of the axe, Mr Loupgarou put it down and sat on the stump. There was silence for a while but Matthieu waited him out. Finally the man took a breath and asked, “Did you ever have pets growing up? Animal companions?”

Ah. “A dog.” Matthieu answers. He smiles in the memory of the dogs that lived with them, even along with the sadness when they passed on. One of the happier times he can recall while living with the Jesuits was being tasked to care for the sheepdog that lived with the brothers. “You had a…rabbit as an animal companion back where you come from?” Matthieu tries to think of what possible help rabbits can be - they can’t hunt, they hide well, maybe they could teach one where to hide?

“Several…you could say. They lived everywhere in my city, and they were usually skittish but…there was a family that lived on a small circle of green next to the brothel I grew up in. They were so used to us they weren’t scared, probably because we fed them occasionally.” He smiles and it’s the warmest sight Matthieu has ever seen, it lifts years off the man’s face and makes him look for a time, beautiful. “They’re just…sweet. I made friends with one when I was a small boy and I took care of her. She went everywhere with me, until…”

Matthieu sighs. Maybe he’ll be able to trap more squirrels instead, but they had less fat in them, which was needed for a long winter. Maybe he could extract more sap from the maple trees to boil into sugar. He’ll have to lay different traps but it’s entirely doable. It’s a shame that Mr Loupgarou had not managed to take down more boars since their first meeting. Whatever it is, he doesn’t have the heart to take away the one single thing the man still smiles over.  

He doesn’t say anything about this decision, but nods and turns to prepare for the different routine he’s going to have tomorrow. “I’ve thought of a name for you then.”

“Finally. At first I was worried, but I think anything is preferable to Mr Loupgarou.”

“Mr Rabbit.”

Mr Loupgarou laughs and Matthieu finds that this laugh brings a furnace to his chest, chasing away the chill. “Seriously Matthieu? I mean, I suppose I could respond to that but…”

Matthieu laughs in return. “No, but…Leverett. Your name is now Leverett.”

“Leverett? As in ‘young hare?”” Matthieu nods and ‘Leverett’ grins, shaking his head. “Somewhere, far away, my sister and brother are laughing and they do not even know why. Leverett it is then.”

“You have siblings?” He had never mentioned this before.

“A half-sister and a half-brother.” His smile dimmed and Matthieu regretted asking.

No more was said of family that day.

* * *

It felt like something shifted between them after Matthieu gave Leverett his name. In the weeks that followed the silences became more companionable, relaxed even, and Matthieu learned just how observant his guest actually was.

“You’ve stopped hunting rabbits.”  

Matthieu stirs the squirrel stew and shrugs. “We’re not desperate. If we were though, there wouldn’t be a choice, we would have to eat anything we can get. This has been a bountiful year so don’t let it lull you, there will be desperate winters, so it is best to remember that even with this reprieve.”

Leverett nods in understanding, comes closer and looks him in the eyes. “Thank you.”

His voice is so heavy with gratitude that Matthieu freezes for a moment. “I’m glad you can stomach squirrels. Do you think you can bring down a boar again?” He manages to joke and smiles just to make sure that Leverett (he’s actually missing the ridiculous Mr Loupgarou nickname) knows he’s joking.

They smile together, and Matthieu looks at Leverett and notices again, the odd shade of green his eyes are. He stares, a little too long, Leverett does not look away.

* * *

 

There is something heavy between them. A tension that Matthieu cannot define but it grows all the same. He’s not sure what he can do to lessen it and he doesn’t want to. It’s just that Matthieu finds himself looking too long, at Leverett’s back when he throws in new logs to keep the fire going, at his face when he hunches over his never-ending map, now illustrated with fantastical and beautiful drawings of plants, animals and fantastical creatures decorating the corners. Leverett does not seem to discourage him, he seems almost pleased. It frustrates Matthieu all the more. This is his home, Leverett is his guest, but Matthieu feels more and more like everything is about to change. Leverett may not be selling guns, but this one odd cursed stranger seems destined to do what his kind have always done - change everything that Matthieu has known. He can’t blame Leverett for this, because Matthieu had decided to take him in.

Overall, it’s not fair. But he still can’t find it in himself to ask Leverett to leave.

“Have you always been on your own?” Leverett asks in the quiet. He’s looking up from the paper he’s scribbling on for a change. It’s a little surprising, since neither of them are great talkers, usually going through the day in their own heads and respecting each other’s tendency to do so. Maybe it was fair for Leverett to know a little about him, since Matthieu at least knew a little about the man. But it was hard. Matthieu often tried to get through his days forgetting his old life, that way he could avoid thinking about how absolutely destroyed it was, and he could see the man he rescued simply as a man who he had helped and not think about the nation he came from, or the role it had played in his own people’s demise. It was easier to give him a French name, with a meaning as innocent as ‘young hare, to hear about his fondness for the animals, than to think about people who looked like him selling guns.

“I lived with a community of Jesuits for a while. I didn’t want to take vows so I ran away.”

Leverett gives out a harsh laugh. “I don’t blame you.” After a pause. “You’re too…” It’s funny to see him careful with his words. “You weren’t raised entirely by Jesuits” He says knowingly. “Were you adopted by the Indians? You look European and you have a French name but you’re not…you’re not French, at least, nothing like any Frenchman I’ve ever met.” He says with finality and humor. “That’s a good thing.”

Matthieu cannot smile. It’s tempting to dismiss the conversation, turn around and ready himself for bed, but for some reason, Matthieu feels himself close off. It must have shown on his expression because Leverett actually recoils slightly, his eyes widening in alarm.

“I did not mean to intrude. I-”

“My nation no longer exists. Your people sold the guns that killed them. That’s why I live here, alone.”

He can see Leverett’s face twist into shock before he controlled himself again, considering this information. After a long moment, he sighs, the weariness in his shoulders is evident. “Beaver wars?”

Matthieu nods.

“There were many nations the Iroquois warred with. If I may…which was yours?” Matthieu had to chuckle at Leverett using that name for the Haudenosaunee. The Algonquin had allied with his nation in the Beaver Wars. They gave the Haudenosaunee the name ‘Iroquois’, and it was an insult. It appeared the Europeans thought that was actually the name of that confederation. A small vengeance.

“My people…were the People of the Bear. We were part of the Wendat nation.” Leverett showed no recognition of this name. “The French called us the Huron.” Now Matthieu saw recognition light up in Leverett’s eyes.

“You grew up near the Great Lake then? Or by a river? The French call your people river dwellers.”

Of all the stupid things. Matthieu barely resists rolling his eyes. “Who doesn’t live by water? The Iroquois used to live on the opposite side of the Great Lake and you can’t travel efficiently without the rivers. Everyone needs water and the rivers.” He says as if speaking to a child. Leverett bristles slightly.

“Believe me, I know that, but I also know that not everyone lives by the water. I asked because that’s what my nation, my people are known for. Living with the water.”

Matthieu wondered if he heard that right ‘with’ not ‘by’. “I confess, I know little about the Dutch Republic. I avoided any and all of your people for a long time. The contract to hunt you was actually the first. So, is your home…an island?”

He cannot read Leverett’s expression now, but eventually the man answers. “No, though there are islands. It’s just that…” It looks like he’s trying to find the words. “Your father’s people call my nation The Low Countries. There are provinces that have hills and the like but not mine. A lot of my home is…” He takes a bowl and places his hand horizontal to the lip. “Think of my hand as the sea. And imagine this is a long bowl with a flat bottom. A good portion of my country is like this. Our land is very flat, there are no mountains, sometimes we’re not sure if we can even call some of it land. There’s nothing to serve as a barrier from the sea. It floods often, and…honestly, flooding used to kill more people than wars do. But…it is our home and we will keep it, against Spaniards, other invaders, even against the sea. We’ve dug canals, built dykes, we’ve made something that used to threaten us into an advantage. The canals allow for efficient transport, improving our trade, giving us the wealth to sail…even to the other side of the world. But that’s now. For the longest time, we were so very poor, conquered, we drowned often, we barely survived.”

It was a very European thing, Matthieu mused, that this conversation had started because Leverett had wanted to know more about him, but still ended up talking about his own nation instead.

“I’m…sorry. If you do not wish to talk about it with me…”

Matthieu shakes his head. “I don’t even know where to begin, how to describe what life was like.”

Leverett shrugs. “Then, if you want to, just start anywhere, anything, whichever good memory comes to you first. Only if you want to, otherwise you can tell me to fuck right off.”

Matthieu is a little amused at that, wondering why he’s never wanted to tell this man to fuck right off. “Not tonight. But one day.”

* * *

Five nights before the next change, Matthieu realizes something just as he is about to fall asleep. Leverett sleeps late, or rather, he doesn’t attempt to sleep when Matthieu does, and he is always the first to rise, already busy by the time Matthieu opens his eyes - or so he had assumed.

“Do you sleep at all?”

Leverett turns from the fire, the flickering flames cast strange shadows across his face. He shrugs. “I just have trouble falling asleep, so rather than toss and turn, I prefer to sit and think or do things.”

Matthieu wonders if this is one of those instances where the wolf is dominant over the man. “Wolves prefer to hunt at night. Is it…that?” Has he been forcing the man to do work with little sleep?  

Leverett smiles at him. “Even when I wasn’t turning into a loupgarou every full moon I was more productive at night.”

That’s not really a ‘no’ so Matthieu figures Leverett doesn’t even know the answer, himself. “Could you sleep when you were with the others…like yourself?” He usually didn’t talk about them, from what he gathered from Leverett, they were all killed when the ship arrived Port Royal, with only Leverett escaping.

“There was little sleep, we were hired to work so we did. We were stronger at night…I suppose. I don’t even think most of them were there because of the promise of that cure. That was…frankly, too good to be true. I think we were there because…” He stops for too long and Matthieu gives up on sleep, adjusting the furs so he can sit up and listen properly.

Leverett is silent, gazing at the crackling flames, and Matthieu waits for him to speak. The cold wind howls outside and Matthieu thinks of the times before when he’s had to listen to the lonely wail and think that he and the wind had something in common.

“Because we were the same.” Leverett finally finishes. “The curse was a great equalizer, more than gold, nation or God could ever hope to be - rich, poor, farmer, merchant, banker, whore, Catholic, Protestant, Jew, Moslem, any kind of person or identity you could think of…we were nothing but monsters there,each trying to earn redemption and a respite from the loneliness of our curse. Each of us had struggled for a time on our own, too proud. All of us had seen each hope chipped away until all that was left was this one last desperate gamble, that we all knew couldn’t be true. But at least we were together, something…I don’t know. It was better, not to be alone.” His voice breaks at the last word and Matthieu is on his feet before he knows what he’s doing. He finds a cloth and brings it over, places his hands on Leverett’s heaving shoulders and lets him cry with his face buried in his hands. Matthieu’s heart twists, it’s physically painful to see Leverett like this.

Matthieu sits next to him and holds him. Leverett grasps him tight with a sigh of relief and sobs into his chest, hunched over as much as he is. Matthieu doesn’t move, he runs his fingers through Leverett’s hair in what he hopes is a comforting gesture.

Here the crackling flames and the sound of Leverett’s breathing drown out the wind’s lonely wails. It helps, oddly, especially because Leverett is a silent crier.

After the tears seem to have dried, Matthieu realizes that he doesn’t want to move. Still, they can’t sit there all night though. “Sleep?”

Leverett stiffens and pulls away. “I’m sorry to keep you up.”

“Well then, you can help me sleep in return. Come on, it’s cold.” It wasn’t a lie, this was going to be a harsh winter. Matthieu took Leverett’s arm to lead him to his bed.

“Wait…help you, you mean share the bed?!”

Europeans, Matthieu wanted to roll his eyes as he thought of sleeping with his family in the longhouse, warm with each other’s company. Then again, Leverett had been born in a brothel, he would think of these things differently. Still it didn’t excuse him (or Matthieu either) for not realizing the obvious until now. “When you found all those other people who had the same ailment as you, it felt better didn’t it?” Matthieu asked. “I guess you slept in close quarters, you worked more at night with your extra strength to keep the ship going, you worked out a hierarchy amongst yourselves…a leader, a second, would-be claimants and the weakest of the pack?”

He can feel Leverett’s confusion. “How did you know?”

Matthieu bites back a sigh - of course this man, raised in a town next to rabbits would not know much about the behavior and social dynamics of wolves, so Matthieu explains.

“Well fuck me.” Leverett rolls his eyes as he finally realizes what Matthieu is saying. They had been so concerned about his humanity, and perhaps Leverett had been desperately holding onto it, that he had avoided the parts of him that were now wolf. Wolves were lonely without a pack, without their own sense of communal order, without trust.

“Wolves sleep in piles, and believe me on a night like this one, I really don’t mind. It’s an unusually cold night, it’ll help us stay warm, come on.” Feeling oddly self conscious, Matthieu lay down on his bed and lifted the furs in invitation for Leverett to join. After a moment’s hesitation, the other man did and Matthieu covered them both.

It was somewhat awkward at first, the bed was built to be comfortable for one, though it could squeeze two. Still, Leverett was unusually tall for a European, and Matthieu often wondered what kind of a brothel he must have lived in to be this well-fed and well-educated. Whatever it was, it was nothing like the sorry things that had been built here.

After some maneuvering and the occasional chuckles, they found something comfortable for both of them. Leverett’s head lay on his chest, his arms and legs wrapped around Matthieu, and Matthieu is grateful he’s too tired to be shy or awkward, so he just holds him and revels in the warmth they have together.

Right before Matthieu drifts off to sleep, he hears Leverett’s breathing even out and feels his body fully relax. Matthieu falls asleep with a smile.


	3. Joy/Sorrow

Now that he knows how to sleep, Leverett sleeps like the dead. Maybe his body is trying to make up for lost time, Matthieu has no idea how long it has been since his guest has been able to get a proper night’s sleep, but he knows the fatigue that comes from it so he doesn’t question it.

Maybe it was Leverett’s sheer exhaustion when they met that Matthieu had related to - so tired he did not care if he lived or died. Matthieu knew what that felt like. Years of working himself to exhaustion with the Jesuits and earning their praise, only to lie awake at night with the sound of silence surrounding him, wondering if there truly would be anything after this life. Sometimes he wondered if he should simply…die and see his family again in the village of souls, for surely as his people were almost gone from this world, the village of souls was now teeming with all the familiar faces that had left this world and then some. One day, deafened by the silence and the loneliness, Matthieu almost tried to return home, before remembering that his mother had wanted him to live as long as he could of this life. Why else had his uncle agreed to bring him here? But he was often tempted. The Jesuits earnestly believed that to take one’s life was to send yourself straight to hell, but they also called Matthieu an innocent, so would that not take him to heaven? Rather than deal with these contradictory lessons - between what he had learned as a child, to the irritating dismissal of the brothers when his beliefs did not match theirs - Matthieu began to think of how he could live without either his old world or the Jesuits. He tried to imagine something of his own, something for the future.

Nothing could have prepared him for this - waking up next to a man for the fifth day in a row, hours before he would turn into a wolfman. But they were making progress, Leverett had more spirit and strength in him now, no longer so tempted by death. Matthieu had found himself opening up more about the past, slowly and carefully, but Leverett always listened respectfully and never interrupted. It was only knowing that they had to prepare for the inevitable change later that day that made Matthieu pull himself out of bed and detangle himself from his bedmate.

“Sleep…” Leverett mutters, clutching him tighter. “Warm.”

Matthieu chuckled. “I need to rise. There’s much to prepare.”

Leverett reluctantly shifts and loosens his grip. Matthieu gets up and does what is necessary, but eventually returns to the bed and sits on the edge to try to coax the other man up. Matthieu cannot imagine what goes through Leverett’s mind every morning on a day he knows he has to change again, so he tries to be gentle about this. He doesn’t have to say anything, Leverett props himself up on his elbows and frowns slightly. “It’s cold.”

Well yes, that’s hardly news though. Because Matthieu takes too long to respond to the obvious statement, Leverett wraps an arm around Matthieu’s waist while he’s distracted and tries to pull him back onto the bed. “Really?! You’re a man! Not a puppy!” Matthieu yells with no bite.

“But it’s cold.” Was the petulant reply. “And by tonight I will basically be a puppy.”

Matthieu has to laugh at that, and decides to give up the fight for now. Who is he to deny Leverett some silliness on a day like today? Or a lie in? Whatever he needs to calm his nerves, their nerves. He lies down and changes his position a little so he can lie on his side a bit more to look at Leverett’s face and amused eyes. He doesn’t know why but with his lonely memories fresh in his mind, he has to acknowledge that right now, he’s the happiest he’s ever been in a long time. Leverett reminds Matthieu that there is warmth and some happiness to be found in this world - in helping a man find himself again, in sharing space, in working with someone. That in some ways, his little sanctuary out here needed this man in it to feel like home, even if it didn’t make any sense. Matthieu built this place to hide away from the rest of the world. He didn’t want to be swept up in it, to lose his humanity to the lawless port towns, money, desperation and blood. Sometimes he felt that he may just get away with hiding away for his entire life, pass on quietly before he had to face the reality of how broken and swept away his time was…and at other moments he thought that it was only a matter of time until the world found him. In his loneliest moments he wondered if hiding was the right thing to do even if at most times it felt like the wisest thing to do.

Leverett is from a nation of ships and wealth in countless form. A thriving nation with thriving cities, greedy and insatiable. Matthieu could tell, from the way Leverett spoke sometimes, that he missed it. He missed the life that he had before he was bitten. Given a choice, he would probably prefer to live in a town, than shut-in out here in the middle of nowhere, where he only had to face the potential of accidentally killing one man every month, and not everyone. Leverett can draw maps, read, write, and he’s seen the calculative gleam in his eye when Matthieu skins the animals for their pelts, when Matthieu makes medicine from the plants and trees he knows, when Matthieu moves through the forest. Matthieu knows that Leverett sometimes works so hard because he’s trying to distract himself, he’s frustrated he’s not doing more with his talents. If Matthieu had to guess, it’s about money, he’s seen the spidery numbers on loose sheets left on the table. He wouldn’t be surprised if somewhere in that mind of his, Leverett has calculated some shallow value to everything here.

“What happened? What’s wrong?!” Leverett’s urgent questions drove Matthieu from his thoughts.

“What?”

“Just now you…I mean, at first you looked happy. Joyful. It’s nice.” Leverett smiles and Matthieu realizes he hasn’t seen that look often. It’s a good look. “Then right after that you just…you looked so sad…”

Oh. Matthieu is a little open isn’t he? Well, he hasn’t really lived among people for a prolonged period of time in a while, there has been no reason to guard himself. Long, calloused fingers caress Matthieu’s cheek and Matthieu looks at Leverett in surprise. “Lev-?”

“Daan.” Leverett interrupts.

“What?”

“That’s the name my mother gave me - Daan. You can continue calling me Leverett, if you like, but I just wanted to let you know, that’s the first name I had.”

Daan. DA-ahn. Matthieu doesn’t make a sound but tries to get a sense of it, the tongue flicking on the roof in the front of his mouth, the slight exhale of breath to emphasize an ‘H’ sound, closing the mouth on the roof of the tongue. It’s a very straightforward name, it simultaneously suits and yet, doesn’t always suit the man now lying next to him.

Now lying even closer to him! What? “Loup-, I mean, Le…?” The fingers gently trace the shape of his lips.

“Something made you sad.” He’s now so close, voice dipped low and soothing. “That’s not right. Let me help you. Let me… banish the sadness, for just a little while, let me do something for you. I do owe you everything after all.”

Matthieu cannot think straight. He’s not naive about these matters, he’s just never put himself in the position of being in this situation before. But he cannot let Leverett, or Daan, or whatever this man ultimately wants to call himself be quite this reckless, so he sits up so fast he almost feels dizzy.

“A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed.” Leverett, no Da…Leverett, he’s more used to Leverett, says in a too-controlled tone and Matthieu takes a breath.

“You don’t owe me anything. I want to make that clear. I may not know what it feels like to change into a wolfman every full moon but…” Matthieu looks around him and gathers his courage to say what comes next. “But it has been…nice…having you here. I wonder about you sometimes, if you’re happy being here. Having one man for company must be a world away from growing up in a thriving city.”

Matthieu feels the shrug more than sees it, feels the bedding shift as the other man sits up as well. “Same can be said for you. I’m not from your nation. The opposite, one could say.” He’s about to say something else but stops, there’s a pregnant pause. “And for some reason, you’ve never asked me to leave.”

Matthieu lets the silence last for a moment longer before saying. “So…you don’t want to?”

“As long as you let me stay with you…I want to stay with you.” He seems to realize something and lets out a short, unbelieving laugh. “And I want to make this clear - I’m only offering what you’re willing to have, but…I do… want you.”

Matthieu feels his own jaw drop. He’s been with others of course, before, soon after his escape from the brothers he sought intimacy until he found how shallow his encounters were. After realizing that he didn’t actually need them, and life in the ports and growing trade posts were not for him, he decided to start over. This though, this is different somehow, it’s never felt like this before. It’s like a wall has caved in, a dam burst, with the admission from Leverett that he wants to stay. “You really…um…alright.”

Was it because he was the only person there? Was Leverett so starved for touch? Matthieu had meant to ask, but didn’t. Matthieu feels his face grow warmer, and he doesn’t move away when the distance between their lips is slowly closed, slightly chilled fingers caress his cheeks. Leverett somehow steals away the doubtful voice that normally echoes in Matthieu’s head, normally given strength in solitude. Where he touches, with lips and gentle fingers, Matthieu feels his skin go numb, his heart singing with fast beats, echoed with his partner’s. Breaths, sensation, the touch of tongue to lips, then of lips and tongues greeting with tentative exploration, and melding into a dance.

Matthieu can’t tell when one breath ends and another begins, or where he ends and Matthieu thinks that they’re already one. One in breathing, one with touch, with loneliness, being lost and now found. Matthieu wraps his arms tightly around the other man, because even this close he’s too far away.

Then he has to pull away, because they have to stop now or they wouldn’t, and if they didn’t stop, they wouldn’t be prepared for tonight.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Matthieu murmurs, “I just…never want you to leave. And if we’re going to make that happen, we need to make sure we can get you back tonight. We’re deep in winter now, it’s not going to be the same.”

Matthieu can tell from the look on his face that he’s not going to argue this time.

* * *

If Matthieu hadn’t been so distracted by the kiss, or by the fact that he had woken up for five nights in a row, warm and happy, he would have paid more attention to the weather. Maybe it wouldn’t have helped. The storm built up quickly and now just a few hours away from the change, Matthieu looked at the blinding white outside hopelessly.

“You can’t run out in this.” Matthieu says with finality. “I don’t care if you’re a man, wolf or wolfman. If you run out tonight, you will die.”

“I can’t stay here!” Leverett has become more restless and irritable as the day has gone by. Unlike Matthieu, he’s still terrified of intense winter storms. Matthieu respects the storms, but he suspects that the Dutch nation didn’t have them quite like this.

“You won’t attack me.” Matthieu tries to argue, yet despite the panic that’s enveloping him, he feels and knows this to be true. “Wolves aren’t stupid, and I think…I’m your pack now. Or at least part of it. I welcome you here just as you are, this is no longer just my home, it’s our home! If you’ve attacked before, it was because you were scared. Everyone back where you come from believes you’d harm them, that for one night you’re far away. I don’t believe that. You’re you. I don’t think even in your wolf form you’d destroy your own home!”

“YOU DON’T KNOW!” Leverett throws his hands up in the air and paces.

Matthieu grabs him, tries to stop the pacing and the nerves. “All these months you’ve run away from me. I always thought it was some hidden desire of yours to get out of here, that you didn’t want to be here with me. But…it was fear wasn’t it? You didn’t want to hurt me, so you ran as far away as you could.”

Leverett looks around helplessly. “I can’t be here when I change Matthieu. It’s not just the risk of me harming you. It’s…” He looks around.

“What is it?”

Leverett shakes his head with urgency. “I can’t stay here.” He looks at Matthieu with a strange outward calm, but his eyes betray how terrified he is. “There are many creatures out there Matt, who can survive a storm like this.”

Matthieu feels the chill of fear in his chest at these words, wondering what Leverett has seen out there.

“And I think it’s time to find out if I’m one of those who can.” Leverett continues, but Matthieu’s not entirely convinced. “Believe me, it’s not a good idea to keep me chained up somewhere to ride out the night.”

Matthieu imagined that would just enrage the wolf, no one liked being chained up. He wasn’t stupid enough to hope that these months meant domestication. “Wasn’t planning to.”

“WHAT?” Leverett’s eyes are so wide, he can’t hide the panic anymore.

“I said I trust you not to hurt me.” Matthieu says, trying to reason. There’s no other choice really, if Leverett refuses to stay, well, Matthieu won’t let him kill himself out there. He’s prepared to fight Leverett and subdue him. In human form, he should be able to do it. Once Leverett changed, well, he’d figure that out once they crossed that point.

“You are insane!!” Leverett yells, panic has finally burst into explosive anger. “No, worse! You’ve given up on life! You’ve quit! You will hide out here in the middle of nowhere until you die and for what?! What useless reason? You are not cursed! You are strong and brilliant and you have so much to do in this world, to give, to make, but you’ve chosen to die and be forgotten here, what a waste! Go ahead then! Kill yourself! Kill the last of your people and your family’s efforts to make sure you lived! What a waste of their memory! Throw your life away but I won’t do it for you!”

The words are stabbing, and part of Matthieu’s mind can barely register the difference between the man who kissed him softly this morning with the one raging in front of him now, but there is the quiet voice inside that knows better, that despite the hurt, this is Leverett trying to escape, trying to make sure that he doesn’t hurt him. So Matthieu harnesses the hurt and anger, then runs and tackles Leverett before he can run out the door. “I know what you’re doing! It’s not going to work, I’ll fucking tie you up in here! I’m stronger than you until the moon rises!”

“LET GO!”  

They wrestle around on the floor. Matthieu is stronger but Leverett is cannier, a man used to besting opponents stronger and faster than him by playing dirty.

“Just stop!!” Mattieu yells. “You can’t wiAAH!” He curls up in pain after he’s kneed in the groin. Oddly, Leverett actually does stop, and through a haze of pain, Matthieu thinks he sees the regret and worry in his eyes. His hands, gently pushing Matthieu’s hair from his eyes and caressing his face are certainly sorry.

Then Leverett remembers himself and his face settles into a mask of determination. He stands and strides towards the door.

“Oh no you fucking don’t!” Matthieu yells through gritted teeth and manages to pull himself up. He grabs Leverett again, throws him down and drags him back into the cabin, kicking the door closed behind him. He grabs the rope that’s hanging by the door and strides closer. He didn’t want to have to resort to this, but Leverett is now too scared to think straight…

“I SOLD GUNS!”

Matthieu freezes.

“I sold guns. Biggest sale of my life. I was fourteen but even then I was tall for my age and they took me for a man, a trader in my own right. It took me a year to organize it, then I sold them for shipment to New Amsterdam. I knew that new lands were the perfect place to sell guns, I knew that native nations warred against each other and I didn’t care. I bought the startup capital for my own business, my mother her retirement, and my siblings a future out of a whorehouse. I thought I was so smart, I thought I’d keep going until I could form my own trading company that would stand all on its own. I was doing well, great even. Then I was bitten by a wolf.”

Matthieu still can’t move.

“So save your strength for someone who didn’t happily profit off the death of your people.”

There are three things that Matthieu wants to do right now: cry, kill, and reverse time. Maybe two are feasible, but he still can’t move. All he can do is feel.

Matthieu feels cold. It’s cold outside, it’s cold within. It’s cold in his chest and stomach, and the cold curls in his head, at the tips of his fingers and toes. He sees what his life once was, the only times he’s felt happy - the love he knew he had, the times his mother disciplined him but he broke the rules again anyway. He remembers what it feels like to know who he is, to be held by family, to smile and laugh. He remembers waking up feeling warm again, the purpose that comes from saving a man’s life, from giving up rabbits for one season. Then he remembers that he’s presently standing in a cold house, alone in whiteness, and all he has for company is a murderer. Daan shakily stands with tears running down his face. Matthieu does not care.

Daan takes step after step, Matthieu does not stop him. He barely looks at him. He’s trying his hardest to forget the last six months, to forget the warmth of companionship, to forget sleeping in each other’s arms, the kiss that morning. He tries to forget how living feels.

Matthieu still doesn’t move when he hears the door shut, the wind grow in intensity, whistling its furious and lonely song. He can’t breathe. He’s been crying and his nose is now fully clogged. Matthieu opens his mouth for air and finally feels the chill freezing the tears onto his face. The fire is low.

How long has he been standing here?

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wanted to write this fic for NedCan Week 2017, but I didn't finish it on time. Now I just add to it when I can. This fic was originally posted on my [tumblr](http://nedcanquen.tumblr.com/post/162265488842/le-loupgarou-chapter-1-nedcanweek-2017). Come say "hello!" Note that the chapter names are the names of the prompts for each day of NedCan week.
> 
> Also, if you're interested in speaking to fellow NedCan fans, please join us on the NedCan Discord Server. Just message [nedcan.tumblr.com](http://nedcan.tumblr.com) for an invite code. Hope to see you there.
> 
> Finally, historical details are sensitive things. If I have made mistakes through my googling and written it here, the mistakes are entirely mine, please let me know and I will do my best to correct them.


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